


In Hushed Whispers

by AlleiraDayne



Series: Bang Your Head (Metal Health) [9]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: A little smutty, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, F/M, Fluffy, Innuendo, Modern Era, Modern Thedas, Steamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 12:47:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5417618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleiraDayne/pseuds/AlleiraDayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amallia drags Cullen out of bed for a movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Hushed Whispers

**Author's Note:**

> For @lacedbracelets/@degaussedlily, 2k+ word fic from my 100+ Follower Giveaway on Tumblr.

_“Will you be here when I wake up?”_

_“I promise,” she whispered. “I’ll be here. I’m not leaving you. Never again.”_

 A dream? Had it all been an incredibly lucid dream, his subconscious filling the void in his mind and his heart that she’d carved out? A dream where he was finally whole, safe, secure, knowing that she would be there by his side forever?

Reality. It must be. There was no other explanation for the spectacular rush he felt as he awoke, still lingering in that infinitesimal space between asleep and awake, and he could die there without regretting a single thing.

With another breath, he inhaled her refreshing sent, the smells of the northern coast neatly bottled for her to wear. Her warmth rivaled that of any blanket or sheet, her entire body flush against his as she lay next to him while she still slept. His eyes flitted open to see her, to convince himself that, _yes_ , it was real, she was truly lying next to him, nearly atop him, her limbs entwined with his.

As though she could feel his eyes on her, she stirred, a scrunch of her nose and a furrow of her brow, and as she rolled away from him he could have wept at the loss of her touch. When she opened her eyes and saw him, Cullen thought she looked surprised, as if she hadn’t remembered the last two months either. And then reality crashed down upon her, sinking in once more and her special smile, the one she seemed to reserve just for him, hooked the corners of her lips as she returned to his side, arms wrapping around his chest and pulling him to her tightly.

“Good morning,” he mumbled.

“’Morning,” she replied. “Sleep well?”

He turned to his side and wrapped his own arms around her, hands splaying across her back and tracing the dip of her spine with delicate fingertips. “ _Very_ well,” he said, voice yet thick with sleep. “You will make a lazy man out of me, Mal. I could do this, just _this_ , all day.”

She laughed her lilting laugh and nuzzled the crook of his neck, breathing in deeply and he wondered what she smelled, what she thought of when she was so near him. Her moan as she exhaled could mean anything, but Cullen was quite positive he knew otherwise.

“This still doesn’t feel real,” she whispered.

He pulled her in tighter, if at all possible, hands roaming her body further, more deliberate, grasping at the supple flesh of her bottom as she rolled her hips against his thigh. The thump of her heart quickened, and softer, lighter breaths pulled from her chest as he continued to touch, to explore. He had not done nearly enough of that recently and he resolved that a little touching couldn’t hurt anything.

“Trust me, Mal, it _is_ real,” he replied and he felt the gooseflesh break out across her arms and legs, skin pebbling whether under his touch or his words, he could not be sure. But the feel of her exhilaration, sharing in her euphoria, emboldened him, and he angled his hips over, slipping his leg between hers.

The heat of her core connected with his thigh and his head spun with rush of diverting blood. Another wanton roll of her hips, a moaning sigh and fingers grasping at his arms soon had him sucking in his own heavy breaths. The thick weight between his thighs ached for release, not having felt it in nearly a week, and he regretted his request from two months earlier.

She must be able to read minds, for as he thought of those words, she paused and looked up to him, her icy blue eyes deepened, darker and full of a lust he had seen only once before. But the hesitation, the caution with which she held back, conveyed a love he had never known. Was it possible to love another person so, seeming to do so with every fiber of his existence? He would have to ask her.

He couldn’t help himself. Her full, pink lips begged to be kissed and he was inclined to oblige that desire. He knew the way they felt on his, soft and delicate, but deliberate, too. And yet, he needed a reminder, needed to test that sensation once more to know, just to be sure.

As if he could have ever doubted. Her hesitation vanished the second their lips touched, her heaving breath sucked in through her nose and he swallowed her moaning sigh. The sweet, sinful warmth of her mouth knew no bounds, and he would have a difficult time choosing between kissing her lips forever or …

She broke away from him, pressing against his chest with a firm hand, and he could have screamed at the sudden disconnect. But when she spoke, her voice was nothing but concerned. “What happened to taking it slower?”

He groaned, frustrated and no longer patient “Mal, I … oh, you’re right. We agreed and it’s the right way. For us, at least.”

She frowned at him, and he imagined she felt similarly. Maker damn his chivalrous nature. And damn her loving heart for going along with it! He rolled his hips absently only to immediately apologize for the involuntary movement.

Amallia giggled at his stuttering foolishness and he felt the tingle of embarrassment creeping up his neck to color his cheeks. Her hand at his chest eased, slipping up to his neck, cupping his jaw just below the ear.

“I’m leaving it up to you to decide when,” she started. “But, I’m always going to make sure it’s really what you want, first. I don’t want to do anything that you’ll regret.”

Cullen sighed heavily, head tilting to meet hers as he pulled her closer. “I love you,” he whispered, but the press of her body against his once more fanned the embers of his lust to a roaring fire. “Except,” he started, “I don’t think I can keep laying here with you like this. I’ll go insane.”

Amallia rolled from him swiftly, too fast for his grasping hands. “Then get up! I’ve got an idea to keep us preoccupied for a few hours.”

“If it doesn’t involve you getting back into your bed with me, then I am not interested,” he jested.

“Oh, c’mon, get up,” she insisted, tossing his jeans on the bed. “We’re going to go see a movie.”

Brow knit in confusion, Cullen looked to her with a side-eyed stare. “What movie?”

Her smirk confused him further, and when she spoke, he could only laugh.

“You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”

~*~

“ _You_ wrote all of that?” Cullen asked stunned. They entered the lobby of the apartment building, walking hand in hand to the elevator.

She nodded. “I did. I’ve been working on it with another composer for about a year. We recorded a couple months ago. I didn’t want to tell you,” she explained as they entered the evelator. “I wanted you to see it and hear it without knowing.”

Cullen sighed, exasperated, beside himself in shock. “Amallia, that movie was amazing. I cannot imagine the amount of work, the time, the _talent_ you poured into all of that music.”

She shrugged. “I have good days and bad days. Art is fickle. Sometimes you’ve got nothing but ideas, each one better than the last, and you’re a font of creation. And then some days you struggle to write a single measure.”

Cullen nodded as he listened, rethinking of the pieces in the movie he enjoyed most. “There was a part I really liked, but I don’t think I could sing it,” he began.

“Describe the scene to me?” she asked as the elevator opened and she exited.

He followed behind her as he contemplated the scene and how best to describe it. Down the hall, they made it to her door before he spoke.

“The woman, Evelyn, the …” he trailed off.

“Inquisitor,” she filled in as she opened the door.

“Right, the Inquisitor. She wants to help the mages so she goes to the small town where they’ve taken up residence after the explosion at the Conclave,” he explained as he followed her into her apartment.

“Yes, go on.” She set her keys on the counter and hung her bag and coat in the closet.

He nodded, thinking further as he hung his coat up as well. “But when she gets there, things go wrong. She meets another mage who tries to help her, but the leader of the mage group is insane. He attempts to kill both her and her new mage friend, but he fails. The spell transports them into the future.”

Amallia gasped, clearly shocked by his choice of scene. “You’re talking about **_In Hushed Whispers_**. _That_ ’s the scene you enjoyed?!”

Cullen frowned a bit at the thought, but pressed on. “I did. It was incredibly intense. The spymaster’s sacrifice? The prospect of the Inquisitor not having survived and the future succumbing to Corypheus? And not to mention, _your_ music. That in particular was what had me on the edge of my seat the entire time. The music for that scene was … haunting. No, that’s not the right word. Suspenseful, maybe, but even that is inadequate. There was an urgency but also a deep-seated longing, an ache to it. It was almost … _painful_ to listen to.”

Amallia sat on her couch and he seated himself next to her. When he looked up to her, he saw her reddened eyes, tears unshed. He reached out for her hand and grasped it tightly. “Something the matter?”

She waved her other hand, dismissing his concern. “No, I’m fine. I’m thoroughly surprised at your choice of song though. There are several other pieces I thought you would pick, but your choice _is_ quite fitting.”

He shifted, turning to prop one leg up on the couch. “What do you mean? How is it fitting?”

Amallia sighed, thinking a moment before responding. “I was writing the day …” she paused, swallowing thickly, “… the day we met again two months ago. The day we started over.”

“You were writing that piece, then, I take it?”

She nodded, hands running through her hair nervously. “Emotions and music are kindred spirits. Emotions can feed into music, as can music feed emotions. When I was writing that day, it was on the heels of your withdrawal episode. I … had never felt worse in my life.”

“Mal, I’m so sorry,” he attempted to soothe, but she waved him off again.

“Bah,” she scoffed. “I _adore_ that piece. It is easily my favorite thing I’ve ever written. Especially now. It makes what we have that much more important.”

A small smile crept across his lips and Cullen couldn’t help but laugh through his nose. “That is an amazingly positive way to look at it. I wish I knew what to say, how to put it into words the precise way that piece made me feel.”

Her hand reached out for his, thumb rasping over the backs of his fingers. “I know _exactly_ how you feel. Anxious, on edge, restless. Nervous. You have to know if they’ll survive, if they’ll make it. If the future is as bleak as it looks …”

“Yes, all of that,” Cullen agreed excitedly. “How do you do that?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I feel music. It’s here,” she said as she pointed to her chest. “Not here,” she continued, pointing to her head. “Music is simply an extension of my heart. I read the script, and how I felt was how I wrote the score.”

“Well, you certainly feel quite deeply, because the entire movie was just one emotion after the next. Congratulations are in order on your first successful movie, I might add,” he said with a smirk.

“To a successful first movie,” Amallia agreed.

A moment of silence passed before Cullen blurted out, “When did you write the love theme?”

She coughed, completely caught unaware. “Who called it a love theme?” she asked when she cleared her throat.

“ _I_ did. You can’t tell me that when the Inquisitor and her lover kiss on the battlements, the piece playing there isn’t some sort of ode to love. When did you write it and how infatuated with that man are you?”

Amallia stared at him, agape and face reddening with embarrassment. “I am _not_ infatuated with him!”

“Oh come off it!” Cullen jested. “I’m _not_ convinced you didn’t name your Mabari after him!”

“Hey!” she exclaimed with a laugh. “Okay, fine, I did! Happy?! I named my silly dog after a silly man in a silly movie!”

He grinned again, loving how flustered he had her. “When did you write that piece?”

She stared him, eyes locked on his, and he could see the gears working in her head as she thought. When she spoke, her eyes cast down into her lap, fingers picking at each other.

“A week after I met you.”

“You wrote that two months ago?”

“No,” she clarified. “A week after I met you the first time. _Last year_.”

All humor fled when it finally sank in, what she meant. All along, she’d loved him and had not been able to tell him, fleeing if she had the choice whenever he was near. He reached out to cup her cheek, thumbing rubbing softly.

“I love you, too,” he whispered.

She launched herself into him, arms wrapping around his neck and chest pressing tightly as he fell back onto the couch. His own arms wrapped around her lithe frame, holding her to him as tightly as she held him. Maker, but the woman felt so perfect, so _right_ in his arms that he never wanted to let go.

“Andraste preserve me, I love you so much,” she sighed. “I find _that_ hard to put into words. I don’t know what to say.”

Cullen stroked her hair flowing down her back as he held her. She didn’t need to say it, didn’t need words to explain how she felt. He had already heard it in her music, numerous times now, and there was no doubting it. Besides, no words would do it justice. The feeling of her atop him, breathing and sighing as she nuzzled the crook of his neck was a perfection he did not know was possible and he hugged her tighter, relishing in her body pressing so closely it was hard to contain himself.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

She lifted her head to look at him. “But I want to. I love you. More than any—”

He silenced her with a kiss, lips meetings hers with passion renewed from that morning. “Mal?” he mumbled into her.

“Yes, Cullen?” she sighed as she continued to kiss him, breath ragged and panting.

“I’m done waiting, I can’t take it anymore,” he groaned as his hand slipped down to grasp her ass, fingers digging through her jeans.

“Are you …” she attempted to speak but Cullen didn’t want to hear it, he just wanted to keep kissing her. “Are you sure?”

With a growl, he sat up and grasped her tightly by the ass, then stood. She gasped as she felt the bulge in his pants pressing against her core and she rolled her hips absently. “Absolutely,” he whispered into her ear.

“Then take me, Cullen. _Make me yours_ _once more._ ”


End file.
